Dreamers
by mxmsupporter
Summary: He got out of trouble half alive, and Matt will help him become whole. Implied MxM.


**A/N:** It's funny that I usually write in Mello's POV when actually I have more in common with Matt. I think. Anyway, I suck at making up plots so this is only a little bath scene. Nothing explicit. No angst, so not really my taste but maybe somebody will like it (why is it that I always write the stuff I wouldn't like to read?)

**Suggested listening: **_Daydreaming _by Paramore

* * *

The warmth isn't stifling, not after everything he's been through. This one, it's barely a ray of sun hitting skin on a spring day. It's like hearing the raindrops, staring up at the sky with a gently steaming cup of tea in hands. Like petting a kitten which purrs so nicely you smile from ear to ear.

His cheek, however, reminds him of the warmth he'd rather forget. Of burning skin and hair, scalding air polluted with carbon and silent cries dying in the fire. And of gloved hands getting him out of Hell, demanding his consciousness while he was being driven far, far away. His stomach churns at the thought. The blond hates being dependant on anybody, especially if he actually cares about the person. Nobody should be stupid enough to look for him.

But there is one idiot capable of that.

Something cold hits him and he shivers, glancing back at the blanket thief. His red hair stick to his face from electrostatics, eyes covered by plastic goggles.

"C'mon, I have to tend to them" the redhead mutters, sighing when the other just turns his back at him.

"Mello, try not to be such an ass, will ya?" he says, throwing the whole blanket off. Suddenly self-conscious, Mello feel uneasy dressed only in the thin boxers his caretaker lent him. Well, it wasn't like he had a choice, he was half-conscious anyway.

Whimpering through clenched teeth, he settles down on his back. Even such a simple movement rips a growl from his guts, the huge wound that is his shoulder still stiff and raw, raw from just the dressing scraping it. The injury is not fresh enough to still be damp, but not old enough to be completely dry either.

"Let me help" he hears, turning his head slightly to stare at Matt. The redhead's hand is firmly planted on his healthy shoulder, reassuring and calming.

Mello still doesn't understand the effect Matt has on him.

The tap water makes a soft sound as Matt fills in the bathtub, adding some of the warmer liquid from a kettle. The plumbing in his flat never makes it good enough.

Their silent ritual begins with the redhead helping the other in. Mello sits down, for once forgetting how he feels about being naked in Matt's presence because _this is it_. The first day he's going to see himself, to check the wounds that now undoubtedly mar his skin. With a snap Matt's gloves are soon scattered on the floor, the man rolling up the striped sleeves of his jumper.

No words said, the redhead takes off the dressing carefully, peeling off a layer after layer. It lands on the floor near the gloves. Matt's never been especially pedantic. Fresh air stings but still, it's an opportunity to breathe with less effort for the blond.

Placing the first aid kit near, his caretaker leans over Mello, gathering some water in a small container he's found the other day. The first touch of the fluid on his skin is unexpectedly cold but Mello knows it's because of how sensitive the wound is. The water is going to be burning on his shoulder.

Quiet swirling can be heard and Matt curses, leaning over Mello's knees to clog the drain properly. The blond swallows, his breath hitching slightly but the sensation is gone as quickly as it came to life. He concentrates on the water washing over him, purifying the sweaty surface and taking the inappropriate images away from his head. Matt's fingers brush over the skin of his neck, gathering his hair to one side.

"I could make you a nice braid, you know?" the redhead chuckles, getting constantly closer to the biggest wound. It's thought-provoking, the idea of Matt suddenly being able to style hair. He's never been even close to that in Wammy's House, using a comb on birthdays and Christmas only.

Well, it's been five years after all.

Mello flinches when the "hot" fluid washes over his left shoulder blade. The tissue is practically uncovered, making the heat receptors all the more exposed. The blond clenches his fingers on the bathtub, cursing in his mind. Merciless treating is what is good for him, the faster the better. Matt knows that and even though his heart sinks as Mello trembles in pain, he is determined to finish the job he's been self-assigned with.

"I know, I'm sorry…" he mutters and Mello snarls "Shut the fuck up!" because that's the only way to stop a howl from ripping from his throat. The water gone for a moment, the blond takes a deep breath and exhales immediately as he feels cold, slick fingers on the sharp bone. Matt's covered his hands in soap and is now rubbing it tenderly into the furiously red flesh.

Mello trembles again, this time from the tightening in his stomach. He's sick, he wants to throw up. He doesn't deserve this, this gentleness, he doesn't deserve anything after such a failure. Near is ahead again, Kira is killing and all of that while he's been laying down in a bed like a fucking invalid.

"Matt" the sound of his name being said startles the redhead. He raises his head, staring at the back of the one who has called him.

"What are you… what are you gonna do when this thing… when this is over?" Mello whispers, his muscles relaxing despite his resolve to stay alert. Matt frowns and rinses his hands, brushing his hair back. It leaves a great part of them soaked.

"What do you mean… this thing?" he mutters in response, rinsing the soap from his companion's shoulder. Mello grits his teeth but the pain is just a dull aching at this point, the scarring flesh chilled pleasurably.

"You know, when I stop being so fucking useless and am able to move around on my damn own" he doesn't stop the venom from pouring into his words, he knows Matt's seen it all already. The redhead is silent for a moment, drying the red patch with a white towel. It's a fluffy one, probably newly bought, Mello notices.

"Well, there's the case going on…" he says absent-mindedly, sitting on the edge of the bathtub and facing Mello. The blond frowns. Matt's never been the one to care about rankings, L and all the detective stuff. Living on the planet he's surely heard about the serial killer but he wouldn't give a flying fuck under normal circumstances.

"Why?" Matt's eyes open wide in confusion.

"Why what?" he asks, fishing a cigarette from his pocket and lightening it. He exhales, his eyelids slowly dropping down in pleasure. There is an ashtray on the tub, although it's not surprising because it seems the redhead's managed to place them nearly everywhere in the flat.

"Why do you suddenly care?" Mello asks, trying to stop his hair from falling into his face as he eyes the drain. Matt notices it and puts the cigarette down on the ashtray, grabbing a hairpin from the sink and fixing them. The bathroom is so cramped that he didn't even need to stand up to get it.

"Well… You seem to care" he shrugs, studying Mello's cheek in the weak light. Not waiting for an answer, he gets a hold of the container and sticks it to Mello's forehead.

"Close your eyes" he demands, pouring the liquid down.

So Matt still hasn't changed his mind? That's not surprising, Mello thinks as he tries to keep his eyelids under control. He's not used to giving anybody the upper hand and as far as he knows, Matt's fingers tracing his eye socket could be scratching the organ out any moment. But they don't. He feels the soap again, and then the gentle rinsing. The water drips from his chin when Matt mutters "That part is done".

"What are you insinuating?" he asks in a vicious tone. A life in the Mafia made all the signs of kindness hide deep within his mind.

"Nothing, really" Matt shrugs again, sucking on his cigarette. He's studying the icy-blues now, deep in thoughts. Or so it seems. The redhead was a master of convincing the teachers he's thinking about the assignment when all he did was thinking about porn.

Mello sighs in surrender, grabbing the soap in his right hand and getting back to washing himself. His companion watches the process for a moment and then stands up.

"I'm gonna throw this out" he motions for the dressing still laying there in a mess. Mello nods shortly and focuses on his arms.

When Matt is back, Mello is more than ready to exit the bathtub. His fingers started wrinkling and the water is not even warm anymore. The redhead helps him again, tossing him the towel afterwards.

"I can give you a hand if you'd like" he says, ruffling his hair in an awkward habit. Mello shakes his head and gets the work done by himself, wincing only slightly when it comes to drying his face. He grabs the boxers and pulls them on.

"Could you lend me some clothes?" he asks, reaching for the hairpin. Matt's hand stops him, the redhead motioning for the first aid kit.

"Not so quick" he smiles a little and Mello frowns. His little theory that a part of his brain responsible for correct emotional responses is broken seems more and more probable. The smile fades away.

"Do you want to see it?" it's barely a whisper. Mello swallows and nods just once.

He turns around, facing the mirror. Blinking, he brings a hand to his chin. So this is how it looks like..? The pinkish-red tissue is covering half of the left part of his face, spreading down to his neck. He traces the scar with his fingertips, his eyes remaining cold.

"It's spreading there too" Matt mutters, placing his hands on the blond's shoulders and turning him around. They are like warm spots on his map as in defiance of his will everything goes a little colder. Sadness spreads over him but it's not from vanity.

A failure.

That's the message the scar conveys. That and the final resolve – there's no turning back.

He will never be a person he used to be, will never have the time to simply forget the race. It's already on and maybe he just isn't quite prepared for what it meant.

It is the way he decided to follow, his only purpose… But Mihael Keehl is in a way a man similar to any other and he feels longing when thinking about his childhood. No, not when thinking about the rankings, about Near beating him every single time. Not about Roger's rants and the one time he's met L in person.

He knows he will miss the warm, sunny days spent in the library, with Matt beating some _noobs_ asses in an online RPG, the times they stole chocolate and watched explicit movies after the redhead had learnt how to hack. Knows there will be no hot summers with only the water hose to chill them down, when they would climb up the roof and watch the setting sun.

They used to dream.

Now is the time to make the dreams come true.

He comes back to reality with a feeling of strong hands rubbing something creamy into his back. The blond looks up to find Matt standing behind him with a burns ointment propped open. He glances at the digits when they move up to his neck, the hacker's head rising and their eyes meeting in the mirror. The redhead smiles, to his surprise getting a similar reaction from Mello.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asks, standing in front of the blond. He blocks the mirror Matt and Mello with his body.

Mello's smile softens as he reaches up, brushing the damp locks away from Matt's forehead. Enjoying the widening green orbs, he leans down and places a kiss there.

"Perfectly fine" he grins, getting a smirk from the redhead.

It is the time to stop looking at the reflection and start looking at reality.


End file.
